Elicit (Eagle Elite #4)(14)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

Instead he fell into a fitful sleep and started snoring.

With a sigh, I shut the door, walked over to the bed, and pulled the blankets over his muscled body. My heart was beating so loudly I was afraid it would wake him up. I wasn’t sure if I was upset over what he’d said or hopeful that the hate hadn’t taken over just yet, meaning there was room for forgiveness, right?

He stretched his hands above his head and then curled an arm underneath the pillow, making his bicep bulge to epic proportions. I gasped. He was too beautiful for his own good and the crazy part? He didn’t even know it. He’d always felt different than Nixon and Chase because his coloring was lighter. Instead of having dark hair he had light brown hair with pieces of red sewn through, almost like highlights. His eyes were a crazy deep blue, not a light blue but a dark blue, like an ocean storm. When he was pissed, he could seriously give Poseidon a run for his money in the angry god look.

Sighing, I pushed his hair away from his forehead and leaned down to kiss his cheek. The minute my lips graze his skin, he grabbed my hand and had me flipped on my back, pressing my hips against the mattress. Tex hovered over me, his eyes blazing.

“I don’t want to want you,” he ground out slowly “I don’t want…” His chest heaved.

“Tex…” I cupped his face, warm tears sliding down my cheeks. “You should sleep.”

“No time for sleep.” He moved off me anyways and laid his head on my shoulder. “No time for sleep when you’re about to die.”

I froze. “You’re dying?”

“Ten million.” He sighed. “Insulting.”

With that he fell asleep.

And I stayed up the rest of the night wondering if every sacrifice I’d made had been in vain, because they were still after him.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

We’re only as strong as our boss is to other bosses. Period.

Sergio

“SO?” I ASKED throwing my keys onto the table and reaching for a bottle of water.

“Ten million.” The voice said in a bored tone.

I stared down at my phone and kept staring. Ten million? It had to be a joke? How insulting, not only to the rest of the families but to Tex himself. Only ten million? Ten million did not get us results. Blood. Maybe. Death? Absolutely. But results? Ones we needed in order to move on to the next step of the plan? It wouldn’t happen and it needed to happen; otherwise, they would all die.

I would die.

There would be nothing left.

A cleansing was coming.

And I was doing everything I could to keep it from happening, but that’s the thing about not existing—about being a ghost. Interfere too much? And people start to talk.

Nixon might as well have been a detective with as many questions as he was firing at me. Why did I really go to the wedding? Why was I at his house? Why was I helping when I usually stay behind the scenes? What did I have to gain?

I sighed, feeling more ancient then my twenty-eight years and glanced at my phone. “Fine, we wait until it’s higher.”

“But—”

“That’s all.” I hit end. My screen immediately turned into the picture I’d kept of Mo. The one and only picture I’d snuck when she wasn’t looking which, when I thought about it, wasn’t the most romantic thing in the world.

But it was all I had.

One picture.

One night.

The end.

Funny, because she’d told me as much—but I hadn’t believed her. I’d never experienced that type of attraction to another person. An attraction that’s so strong that you end up doing stupid things.

Like planning for the future.

Mafia rule number one? Don’t plan, it’s rare to experience a happy ending.

Ten million. The number may as well have been written on my forehead. Damn, they were going to have to do better than that.

I had two choices.

Let the chips fall.

Or maneuver each chip for my own purpose—for the family, for Mo, for blood.

The problem? I wouldn’t come out looking like the hero, but the villain. In fact, I was pretty sure that if I took that step… if I stopped hiding in the shadows, I’d end up shot.

Dead.

Buried.

I looked back down at my phone, my heart hammering in my chest. If I did nothing, she was as good as dead, they all were. It would only be a matter of time before things came to a head. Maybe not this month, maybe not next month—hell, it could be a year before things progressed.

But again, the ending was always the same.

“Mo,” I whispered touching the screen with my fingers, caressing the glass because the last time I touched her face, she’d pulled away, taking my heart with her.

The only time she’d given in to me—given in to us, was because she was angry at him.

I was her best defense then.

I was her best defense now.

“Damn it. “I closed my eyes and allowed myself a brief moment to imagine what freedom would be like. I could run away, knowing that each step I took was stained with the blood of my family.

Of the girl I’ve loved since I was five.

So, with shaking hands, I lifted the phone, dialed Nixon’s number and said the words I never thought I’d utter again.

“What?” Nixon barked into the phone. “Everything good on your end?”

“I’m in.”

“Sergio…”

“I’ll lock up everything tonight, meet you at the house, stay as long as you need… time to retire the ghost, brother.”

Nixon cursed, the phone went silent for a minute. “You do this, you make yourself a target. You’ve been in hiding for a reason, Sergio.”

“Let me worry about it.” My stomach clenched. “I’m back, get ready, a shit storm’s coming and I’m pretty sure the wind’s blowing straight from Sicily.”

“Right.” Nixon sighed. “I’ll be waiting at the house.”

“Okay.” I pressed end, slowly dropping my phone to the counter. It rang, once, twice, three times.

I answered on the fourth, not bothering to say hello.

A voice rasped in my ear, “I will come for you. I promised I would if you ever showed your face again.”

“Fine.” I barked as dread filled my stomach. Damn I worked way too hard to protect a family who hated me so much. “What’s the worst that could happen, Pops? I get shot?” No sooner had the words left my mouth, then the mirror in front of me shattered falling to the ground in slices of discarded glass. A second gunshot rang out, ripping the leather from the couch.